


press

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Series: drabbles [10]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Size Difference, with a question mark, with another question mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: people pull him apart and pressure puts him back together.





	press

**Author's Note:**

> was in a weird headspace today and this happened.  
> apologies for it not being i10. writer's block is a bitch.  
> written in about an hour, barely even looked over by me. let me know if i missed anything major.

It’s been a long day, even though they didn’t even really do that much. Four hour rehearsal with their choir for the big finale performance of the year. Almost five hundred kids in one performance hall. It’s crowded, it’s hot, it’s loud.

It’s over, though, but Mitch’s body doesn’t agree. He feels like he’s floating just above the ground, off-kilter and unfocused. It’s not uncommon after days like today. He calls it “shutting down” after a lot of social interaction.

He’s hugged his parents more times than he usually does, and it’s not helping. He wishes he had a weighted blanket, because he just wants to be squished back together, feels like he’s a billion drifting parts and the only way he’ll come back together is by sheer force.

It’s almost eleven, and his parents have long gone to bed, leaving Mitch to sit on his bed with the lights off and wrapped as tight as possible in his duvet to try and put himself back together. Mitch glances at his phone and unlocks it, staring at his homescreen, a picture of him and Scott cuddling that Kirstie had snuck in before their performance three days ago. His fingers find Scott’s contact and hit the call button without meaning to.

“Scotty?” Mitch whispers when Scott picks up.

“What’s up, princess?” Scott asks, voice soft.

“Can you come over?”

“Sure. You okay?” There’s a shuffling from Scott’s side of the line as he, presumably, rolls out of bed.

“There were so many people today,” Mitch says simply, because Scott will understand. Besides, at this point, Mitch isn’t sure he has the brainpower to put together many more words. Everything’s scattered.

“I’ll be there in five, darling. Hang tight,” Scott whispers before he hangs up.

Mitch puts his phone down and just sits, unconsciously tightening the duvet around himself. He knows Scott said five, and he knows logically that Scott only lives about five minutes away, but he feels so pulled apart and scattered that he doesn’t feel like he can grasp the concept of time, so it could’ve been eternity for all he knows before his phone buzzes with a text.

Sunshine Scoooooty, 10:57p _: im here, is the door open_

Me, 10:57p: _no, hold on, im coming down_

Mitch gets out of bed, keeping his duvet draped over his shoulders and making his careful way down the stairs, being careful to skip the second-last one that always creaks loud as hell. He fumbles his way to the front door in the dark, unlocking it as quietly as he can and opening it for Scott, who takes one look at his getup (softest pajamas and duvet pulled tight across his back) and opens his arms for a hug. Mitch closes the door and slumps into Scott’s hold.

Scott holds him as tight as physically possible, squeezing hard through the blanket, and Mitch feels like he can take a full breath for the first time since rehearsal ended.

“C’mon, Mitchy, let’s go upstairs. You need to sleep.”

Mitch lets Scott rest a heavy arm on his shoulders as they make their way upstairs, skipping the creaky stair and closing Mitch’s room door behind them. Mitch pulls away from Scott and flops on his stomach on his bed, burying his face in his pillow and letting the duvet go so Scott can follow.

“Holding or held, princess?” Scott murmurs from somewhere behind Mitch.

“Held, please,” Mitch says, muffled by the pillow, but he knows Scott hears.

The bed dips next to Mitch, and there’s a chill as the blanket lifts for a moment, but then there’s a weight half on him, and Mitch wriggles a little, trying to push closer.

“How bad is it tonight, Mitchy?”

Mitch sighs. “Bad. Social butterfly Mitch persona was on for all four hours and she didn’t get to step away at all. You know how bad I am when I have to do that. Everything was tugging and stretching and now it’s floating.”

Scott hums in acknowledgement, and shifts his weight more onto Mitch. Mitch feels like he’s being crushed into the bed, and it’s helping. It’s helping that Scott’s warm and heavy on his back, and it should be more claustrophobic than it is. Mitch hates crowding, hates people pressing too close to him, but when it’s Scott, it’s comforting. He feels safe, and he feels like he’s coming back together, slowly, but it’s happening nonetheless.

Mitch closes his eyes, and focuses on the way Scott’s weight is pressing him into the mattress. He can feel his breaths deepening as his chest comes back together into the right places and slowly, he’s coming back to firm ground.

“This okay?” Scott whispers, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s chest as best as he can and pressing tight.

“Better,” Mitch murmurs.

“Good. Love you so much, baby. Sleep now.”

“Okay. I love you too.”

Mitch falls asleep with Scott heavy on top of him, pinning him down into the bed, and he feels like maybe he’ll be whole again tomorrow morning.

 

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment or kudos if this made sense in an odd kind of way


End file.
